Those words though. They’re familiar in an uncomfortable fashion. I remember who said them to me for the first time.
How small and vulnerable I’d been. How he’d used them to keep me quiet.
There’s a lump forming in my throat. I swallow it down, trying to forget. Trying to ignore it all.
“You alright?” Soren asks all the sudden.
I realize the dampness on my face isn’t just sweat, but tears. Not the old ones from just before our entanglement, but new ones. Fresh tears drip from my eyes against my will.
I sit up and wipe aggressively at my face. “Fine,” I mumble.
The bliss in the aftermath is wearing off. What was once utter pleasure is now a looming sense of anxiety and guilt.
“You’re not,” he replies as he sits up as well. He scoots closer to me.
I sigh and grab my boxer briefs. “Doesn’t matter,” I insist.
“Didn’t we just go over this, Carm?” he asks me.
My stomach lurches. “Don’t call me that,” I snap at him.
Soren’s expression darkens. “Whatever your problem is, this ain’t gonna help.”
“Just figuring that out?” I ask him in return. “Just…this shouldn’t have happened.”
“Why not?” he waves a hand at my cum-covered stomach. “Clearly you liked it.”
I stand up from the couch and put my boxers on before stepping around the broken coffee mug and grabbing a coffee filter off the table. I use it to wipe my stomach off.
“I shouldn’t,” I reply. “I shouldn’t like…the way you talk to me. The way you manhandled me.”
I feel Soren’s eyes on my back. “The way you called me…” I shake my head. “It’s wrong. I shouldn’t want it. I shouldn’t like the way you treat me.”
“Why not? What’s the problem with it? You can’t handle being dominated? Don’t want the boys to find out… Is that it?” he stands up as well.
I shake my head. “You don’t know anything.” My eyes sting with tears still, and I try to keep them from falling.
“Tell me,” he says, as he stands naked in front of me. His body covered in scars and tattoos. Jagged edges of his skin glistening with sweat. His softened length just hanging there, drained by me.
“God…even now. Trying to get away from you, thinking about these things…those things,” I huff. “Looking at you… It’s making me feel these things. I don’t want to feel them. I don’t want to want this.”
“Why don’t you want it? Tell me, Carmine. What’s so bad about it?” Soren asks me, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breath.
My own breath hitches in my throat. “I can’t…Soren, I…” I clench my jaw, trying so hard to fight the emotions welling up in my ribcage, threatening to spill out. Up my throat and out of my mouth and eyes.
Soren’s own eyes are suddenly wet too, but he turns his gaze away from me.
“You’re not the only one who has a problem,” he admits.
I blink away my tears and take a deep breath. “What? Are you going to tell me you’re an alcoholic too now?” I sniff and toss the coffee filter.
“Nah,” Soren says slowly. “But if I’m not careful, my vice might be standin’ right in front of me, havin’ a nervous breakdown.”
My heart squeezes in my chest in a way I’m all too familiar with, and I hate it. I can’t. I can’t even begin to feel that way for Soren. It’s not safe. It’s not good for the family.
“I suppose I better not tempt you again,” I say slowly. I grab my clothing off the floor and start to get dressed. Ignoring the way my body aches and my brain begs me to just sit back down and let myself drift off to sleep.
It’s quiet for a long moment. Maybe several. I expect Soren to bring it up again, to try to get me to spill my guts, but he doesn’t.
